| Time waits for no man
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| He ain’t believe till his ace boon took the stand
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| Shook the D.A. |
| hand, that’s that honor amongst thieves
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| My enemy’s enemies are always well received
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| Served hors d’oeuvres, tricks up sleeves, the hoochie grins
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| But it ain’t no compromise, I’m Ho Chi Minh, ruthless, MC Ren
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| Small caliber, close range, General Nguyen
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| Feburary 1st, '68, the best laid plans of mice and men
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| Flip the coin, call it fate
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| Froze like a pipehead on a crack stem when bodines hit the Gate
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| Night Riders in Reconstruction, Gentrification, crackas got suction
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| Righteous Among The Nations
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| Hebrews bailed him out, co-d's hit the state pen
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| Staying with my ex-girl but we just friends
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| Got a nigga on a strict regimen
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| Blowing sour L’s in pissy stairwells
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| She caught me coming home from work like «oh hell
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| No, you gots to go»
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| Fair enough, but if so, we might as well fuck
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| Sleepless in Seattle, don’t make sense
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| Like two niggas cracking jokes, with no beat and wanna call it a battle
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| Takes all kinds I suppose
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| Think big, young Cecil Rhodes
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| You dig the flows? |
| come to the shows with your best dro
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| Unleaded diesel petrol
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| Facing a Parliament Of Rooks I got a Murder Of Crows
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| Slayed the broad that night, murder she wrote
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| In the swamp neck deep
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| Vigorish high, Jimmy the Greek
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| Eagles by three makes it a tie
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| Woe unto he who believe a word these Boers speak
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| Crammed into the OTB with the rest of the creeps
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| Fear reeks, by noon the Polacks is three sheets
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| Land sharks three deep for percentages
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| Compounded by the week
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| Eyes blank like plainclothes police
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| Tell em to pick they own cotton
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| This is professional football we don’t run the option
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| Barry Sanders, who gives a fuck if niggas blocking?
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| Top of the ki/key, white as John Stockton
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| We need this one to beat the spread
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| They keep guns to heat the lead
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| Beat the odds or eat your meds
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| The force of the blast tore him to shreds, CeeLo!
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| When them atoms crack, bet on black
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| Rain, radioactive hurricane
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| The abyss beckons, I’m bettin' the farm subsidy
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| Comfortably, talking big like they ain’t touching me
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| Sobered up, trying to skip town
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| Double dutch masters, full of brown, bamboozle
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| Stop by her job like it’s business as usual
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| But, um, can I hold something till payday?
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| «Can't do nothing for you man,» like Flava Flav
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| Got problems of my own
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| Outro Sample (from billy woods — Minimalism):
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| Known as the foreigner
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| Illegal alien rap |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Foreigner , by - Billy Woods. Song from the album History Will Absolve Me, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп